


Look Me in the Eye

by The_White_Rabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, bittersweet feels, confessed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: Sometimes the moments you've been waiting for aren't as perfect as you'd hoped, but that doesn't mean they're any less real.





	Look Me in the Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble request from the following prompts: Gabriel, red, eye
> 
> Want to know when I'm taking requests? Follow me on twitter: @thewhiterabbit42

“You could at least have the decency to look me in the eye when you say that.”

 

The statement comes out hard, and anyone not privy to the context might consider it to be unnecessarily harsh given all he’s been through.  But  _ you  _ know better.  This is Gabriel.  The man you love. The being who has broken your heart a thousand times over.  The one a part of you knows you’ll continue to let do so no matter how much pain he causes.  

 

He really outdid himself this time.  Getting caught with Rowena in the library is the icing on a cake that’s taken years to frost.  You’ve forgiven so much, but forgetting is a piece has yet to take hold, and too much swirls within your mind when he finally gives you what you want. 

 

You know it’s irrational to be this angry.  He’s never promised you anything. You’ve never even been on a date.  It’s not his fault that he’s been gone for years, but there’s a part of you that can’t let go of the thought of how many porn stars he fucked until Loki betrayed him.  

 

You also know it wasn’t about you. Him leaving, his hedonistic binge, letting Rowena pounce on him because she has a deep-seated attraction for powerful things.  It’s  _ never  _ been about you, and that’s what really has you seeing red at this moment, because you can only imagine what it is that’s driving his confession. 

 

Faded tawny orbs rise up from the ground on which their fixed, brightening a little with something.  Anger, perhaps? Incredulity? Or is it resistance sparking bright at the fact he’s being challenged?  

 

The uncertainty in his frame vanishes, shoulders rising up.  He isn’t the proud, powerful being you remember, but he’s the closest to himself you’ve seen since he’s returned.  

 

“I love  _ you _ ,” he repeats, features all hard lines and stark severity.  There’s little of the trickster left, and what it leaves behind you’re not certain even  _ he  _ understands.  The important part is it’s genuine, authentic in a way you’re not certain the old Gabriel could ever be.  

 

It’s then that you realizes he actually means it.  

 

You swallow.  You’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, _begged_ for just the opportunity to even tell him how you felt.  Now that it’s real, you haven’t a clue what to say. 

 

_ “Talking can be  _ **_so_ ** _ overrated.”   _ You hear his voice in the back of your mind, memories flooding your veins until you’re so full you almost cannot breathe.  For once, you decide to take a page out of his book, throwing caution to the wind and just acting. 

 

You move forward, slow enough for him to anticipate your intent, but steady with intent.  He doesn’t move, doesn’t give the slightest indication what you’re doing is unwanted, and by the time your lips hit his there’s so much anticipation you’re not certain you’ll make it.  So much from the past and present collides, intertwining with what could be in a way you know that no matter what happens after, this will be a moment that makes it into your heaven. 

 

You’re not certain if it’s a fraction of seconds or actual ones that tick by, but eventually he responds, hand gripping tight at the back of your neck, as his mouth presses back against yours.  Before your know it you’re flush against his chest, fingers splaying tight across the small of your back as if he’s afraid the moment he lets go you’ll be lost to him. 

 

The heady moment slips away, leading into something far more meaningful as he draws back and rests his forehead against yours.  Both your chests rise and fall, the erratic rhythm mirroring the frantic cadence of your heart. 

 

There’s so much to work out between you.   _ Too much  _ logic tells you, but in this fragile moment, it doesn’t matter.  The only thing that does is he’s there with you,  _ really  _ there, in a way he’s never been before, and it breathes life into a hope that this time is different.  

 

This time, he might be ready to stop running.


End file.
